My Mirror, My Protection
by sarahelizabethknox
Summary: Fred Weasley is completely reckless, and George is the only one who is capable of knocking sense into him. At least, that's what he thought..Rated M for corporal punishment and stupid stunts. Do not try this at home.
1. Chapter 1

''Ahhrgh! You're such a git, George!''

''It was an accident, Fred, keep your voice down.''

''I can't believe you spilled ink all over my trousers, you sodd--''

''Finish that sentence and you won't sit for a week, brother.''

Fred scowled, but sighed, slumping in his chair as the hands that mirrored his own tapped his wand around the mess. It soaked up immediately.

George's last comment had made Fred's cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. Their agreement was something that had come up with the boys not too long ago, in their fifth year. While the twins in themselves were extremely mischievous, Fred had always leaned a little more toward the dangerous side, much to the dismay of his family members (especially his mother and twin). Fred was proud to say he had the scars to prove it. While George, too, was a fan of the trouble he and his brother made, he most certainly was not a fan of the dangerous situations Fred often got himself (or the both of them) into, and the fact that he almost always had to come to the rescue. So, during a study period in their fifth year, he'd presented Fred with the promise that if he decided to continue with more of his hazardous stunts, his backside would be as red as the sunset after the fact. At first, Fred had laughed, assuming it a mere joke of his brother's, but soon after he was proved sorely wrong as he got the first taste of a hand and wooden brush on his bare backside by a very livid George.

It was very strange for George in the beginning -- he didn't know exactly what had made him come to that particular decision. He'd not really known anyone whose parents used spanking as punishment before, so he was unclear where he'd gotten the idea. However, it seemed to have worked. Fred's riskiness had been cut considerably, as well as his injuries (and, George had noticed, his smart remarks, much to their mother's appreciation). Strangely, the punishments never seemed to cut away the regular troublemaker in him that had always been there, and George was very grateful for that. One of his greatest fears of starting punishment was that it would somehow darken Fred, leaving him shut up inside himself, terrified of every raised hand. George never wanted that. The purpose of the punishment was to help Fred learn the consequences for the stupidity of his actions.

''There,'' George sighed ''your work table is clean, your majesty.''

Fred gave him a good elbowing in the ribs. George smirked.

''As much as it breaks my heart to pull away from our little ''study'' group, I have class, dear brother.'' Fred said, chucking his books haphazardly into his bag and hoisting it on to his shoulder. ''I shall see you elsewhere.''

George grinned and gave a single nod. He loved his brother's goofy outlook. He loved his brother. He often thought about this, though no one would ever suspect it.

''And I, you.'' he said, and Fred marched off, most likely not to his next class, but this was nothing new. They both skipped class and this was nothing George could chide him for, out of sheer hypocrisy. George skipped class just as much as he did. With a last look in Fred's direction, he gathered his things and set off for Charms.

***

''Did you hear?''

''Hear what?''

''Fred Weasley, about Fred Weasley!!''

''What about him?!''

''Well, it's just a rumour, but Lila told me he was bragging to a bunch of sixth year girl about doing a high-dive off the seventh floor staircase!''

George froze. Had he just heard right? He took a step backward toward where the voice was coming from.

''Who said that?'' He asked into the tight-knit group of first years. A small voice came through the sea of bodies.

''Me..?'' it squeaked.

''Who are you?'' He asked.

''Elsie Mayfield.'' She said timidly. George eyed her carefully.

''Where did you hear what you just said about Fred Weasley?''

''Lila..something, I'm not sure of her last name.'' She said. At this point, George could care less about specifics.

''When did she say he'd be doing this?'' He demanded, a bit loudly. The girl recoiled a bit.

''Uhm, around..around seven, I think, once classes were out.''

Georges eyes sauce-panned. He checked his watch--it was ten till seven. He gritted his teeth firmly.

''Oh bloody sodding hell NO.'' Dropping his books on a nearby table, he tore off for the main staircase.

He ran as fast as his long legs would carry him, maneuvering through crowds of students and around the corners of the halls, all the while fearing he wouldn't get there in enough time. He was on the first floor, he panicked, there's no way he would get there...

He took the steps of the staircases by two's and even three's if he could manage it. He checked his watch again when he'd reached the fourth floor. The longer hand was dangling menacingly close to the large dot above the twelve. Three minutes would signal seven pm. If he knew his brother, his timing would be spot-on; it created a more dramatic effect. A stitch started to form in his side, but he ignored it. All he cared about was getting to Fred, was stopping him...and warming his bottom severely for even thinking about performing such a stunt, let alone bragging about it. Had his lessons over the past year simply dropped out of the twit's head? He looked at his watch. One minute, and he was just now on the sixth floor. He had to move. He pushed himself as much as he could, feeling the first beads of sweat form on his brow. Two more steps, three more, he hopped up each one with haphazard movements until finally, he slowed to a halt. He'd reached his destination, and what his saw before him made his heart drop almost audibly into his stomach.

His twin was standing right on the ledge of the stone banister of the seventh floor, crouched in position, surrounded by students hanging onto his every move.

Fear clutched his insides. His mouth moved, but not quickly enough.

''FRED!'' He bellowed. Every head turned his way, save for the one he wanted. He lunged forward, but it was too late. Instead of grabbing fabric as he intended, all he clutched in his fist was stone, warmed from the feet of a stupid Weasley twin, who was now falling, plunging towards the cold base of the stairway hall.

_____________

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! **

**I'm so so so so so so SO sorry this chapter took so long to come out! D: School was cramping my writing style v.v **

**Anyway, there are no AN's on any of my other stories, so this chapter is the beginning of that (if I can remember to do it every time...)**

**Yes, well. **

**WARNING: This chapter contains corporal punishment, and, depending on how you look at it, twincest. As is slashtwincest. As in brother/brother lurve. I WARNED YOU. IF YOU FLAME ME, I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL. **

**I don't own Gred, Forge, or any of the implements that pop up here. **

**That is all. Enjoy! ^_^  
**

* * *

George's blood froze.

People were right about your life flashing before your eyes when you thought you were about to die. He saw it. Only this was different. He wasn't about to die -- Fred was. It was Fred's life that was flashing, zinging past in his mind's eye. Everything zipped by from the last sixteen years: the time they'd set the lawn on fire trying out a spell three years beyond their knowledge. The year they had gone abroad and found themselves lost for three days. He guess ''Fred's'' life wasn't exactly accurate. It was never just one boy's life -- it was theirs. Theirs, together, from the very beginning, and now George was staring in horror as it was about to end....

He watched as his brother did flips through the air, he stomach dropping lower in time with each one. George held his breath, watching, waiting. Fred was almost too far down to see now, but he was almost positive of what he was saw next. He squinted. Fred had flailed hopelessly in the air before wrenching something long and black out of his waistband -- his wand. Sparks shot upward...and he froze. Fred was hanging in midair. George knew at once that this is what this entire stunt was for -- to show off his learning a new spell. He scowled inwardly. He watched as Fred did little tricks in the air -- swimming, modeling, and stretching back as if lying on a bed. He finally stopped. With another flick of his wrist, he lowered himself ever so slowly onto the floor.

Everything was silent. Fred stood patiently and waited. Then, without warning, the entire crowd burst into deafening applause and shouts. George started. Everything he'd just witnessed was beginning to sink in, but he didn't yet know how he felt about it. Faced with the praise, Fred bowed three different times, smirked, and saluted before running and disappearing out a side door.

***

The colour started to flood back into George's limbs as the crowd around him began to scatter, all still chatting about what Fred the Daredevil had just done. He blinked. Could his legs move? He checked, and began slowly walking down the now empty corridor. His insides shook. He felt nauseous. Anger hadn't yet set in, but he knew it was coming. Right now, it was just pure terror, slowly leaking from his stomach. The knot hadn't loosened.

He had to find Fred, now. He shoved his hand into his pocket and felt around. There! He'd found it - the map. He ripped it open and scanned the black dots, looking for his brother's name. His eyes finally came to rest on two tiny pairs of feet, planted in the Gryffindor common room. He shoved the map back in his pocket and took off.

***

Should he speak?

Turns out he didn't get the chance. The room seemed empty when George opened the door, but he knew better. He scanned the room once, looking for anyone who didn't need to be there at that moment. When he was sure no one else was there, he muttered a quick silencing spell on the doors. No one else needed to hear what was about to happen.

He began walking towards the back of the room, where the bathroom was. He heard feet shuffling. A moment later, it happened -- Fred walked out, turned, and froze. If there was a smile on his face before, it wasn't there now. He said nothing as George grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise, and dragged him to one of the beds, shoving him onto it.

''Don't talk.'' George whispered. Fred shut his mouth; he was about to start explaining, but after George told him to shut up, he realized it would've been a stupid move anyway.

George paced back and forth in front of him.

''I don't understand.'' He said quietly. Fred weighed his options, following George nervously with his eyes.

''I don't understand,'' George repeated ''how, in all the years...we've set up this punishment...how...this happened.'' He stopped pacing and stood, looming, over Fred, arms crossed, eyes set. ''Explain it to me.''

Fred said nothing. He dropped his eyes from his brother's stone stare.

''Look at me!'' George shouted. Fred's eyes snapped upwards again and he winced. ''Explain yourself! NO excuses, NO stalling, what. were. you. thinking?!''

''I don't know!'' Fred shouted back. The look George bombarded him with made him lower the volume. ''I--I wasn't! I found that spell, and I..I guess I just got excited, and the thought came to me and I just...I just did it, George, I didn't think, I'm sorry!''

''Sorry? You're sorry? You have NO idea what was going through my head, do you?! You could've died! Do you realize that?! What if that spell had gone wrong?! Where were your thoughts?! Do you know what torture you just put me through?! I had to sit there..and watch my other half throw himself off a ledge, not knowing if I would see you alive again!'' George dropped to his knees and shook his brother by the arms, hard. ''What were you thinking?!'' He whispered again. Tears gathered in his eyes and a couple fell. The anger had come, and now it was going. All he was feeling now was confusion, and sorrow, and relief. He might have to punish his Fred for his stupidity, but he would rather have to punish him then sit by him in a hospital bed. Or a coffin.

Fred was silent still, and George had really expected that, but he wouldn't be silent for long. ''Get up.'' He commanded, pulling Fred off the bed by his arm. ''You move from this spot and this will be one hundred times worse for you, don't you try me.''

Fred crossed his arms and stood. He'd been through this before, and he knew without having to be told not to walk off, or worse, run. Any of the times he was caught (and that was always), the punishment worsened. Usually, the extent of the punishment (if he ran) depended on how long he tried to avoid it. Two extra licks for every minute he would try to get away, and George was merciless. Forget anything about how much it hurt George -- it did, it was the worst pain he'd ever felt, punishing his brother -- but he never backed down once a punishment was set. He'd also learned never to protest.

George stood looking at Fred, thinking. What was he supposed to do, how would he react to Fred's stunt? Figuring a drawn out wait was well-deserved, he pondered for a moment. How much punishment did Fred really need after something like this? George had never been face with a decision like this before. After much thinking, he finally came to the verdict of one hundred and ten; hand first, then the belt (he supposed fifty each) and the last ten with the cane. The belt had been used before, though sparingly. The cane had never been used. Threatened, many times, but never been put to an actual punishment. This was mostly due to the fact that George never, ever wanted to have to use such an implement on his brother; canes were extremely torturous. However, he'd set his plans, and had no intention of going back on them. He turned to Fred.

''Alright. I've made up my mind. Come here.'' He beckoned Fred forward. Fred tentatively stepped toward him, and George quickly began undoing the zip of his slacks. This was nothing new either; George never let him undress himself for a punishment, to add to the humiliation, and therefore hopefully help it stick in his mind better. He dragged off Fred's pants then his boxers, folding both of them neatly and laying them on a nearby table. Next he tugged off his shirt, and then Fred was simply there, completely naked and hugging himself. George nearly sobbed, looking at him. He looked so guilty, almost..pitiful; but he stopped himself. He knew he had to do this.

''Lie down.'' George said, and Fred did, covering the entire bed on his stomach. George sat down beside him and placed a hand on the small of his back.

''I'm going to use my hand and the belt...and..I'm going to use the cane, Fred. Don't look at me like that, you know very well you deserve it.''

''How many?'' Fred asked quietly. George sighed.

''One hundred and ten. Fifty each with the hand and belt.'' he said. Fred turned his head and laid it down, perhaps to cover to wince on his face after hearing what was about to be done to him. George patted Fred's back once and stood up.

''You know the drill, Fred. Legs spread, arms above your head.'' George said. Fred did as he was told, gripping the end of the bed with his fingertips. He heard George messing with his shirt and the zzziiiippp of the belt as he pulled it from his slacks, followed by a metallic clink as he laid it on the table. So the hand would be first. Fred tensed obviously when he felt George's cool hand on his back again; this time, however, it was not for comfort.

''Are you ready?'' Fred didn't answer.

''Fred.'' George said sternly. ''You will answer me when I'm talking to you.''

''Yes! Yes...I'm ready.'' Fred mumbled into the bedsheets. George nodded. He slid his hand over Fred's backside, letting him feel it first, and waited until Fred was completely relaxed. Once he was, George delivered a great smack to Fred's rear end, issuing a small grunt from the twin. Over the course of this arrangement, Fred had built up something of a high tolerance for spankings, but it wouldn't be long before he was feeling this one enough to regret what he had done.

George laid into him, giving out particularly hard smacks, anywhere and everywhere he deemed good. Ten went by and then twenty, and George never relented, his hand never weakened. By the 45th smack, Fred had ground his head into the mattress, squirming but trying not to. George gave the last five smacks down on his thighs, hard, then let up. He wasted no time in going for the belt, but once it was in hand, he gave Fred a moment to recover. The moment was short lived, however, and too soon did Fred feel the blistering sting of leather on his already hot backside. George was only through twenty of these when Fred finally broke and began to sob. His body shook, half with sobs and half with pain. George had to detatch himself, as he could barely stand the sight and sound. The feeling of knowing he was hurting his brother killed him, but it had to happen, he _had _to protect his brother; he was the person he loved the most.

The twenty-fifth smack landed and they kept coming, sometimes right on the sit spots and other square on the most tender part of his thigh, which caused him to cry out the loudest. Thirty went, then fourty, and finally the last swat had landed hard as ever, and it was over. At least that part. George sat next to Fred, but would not lay his hand on him anywhere. This was not a time for comfort, and Fred knew that. He was being punished, and only afterwards would he get to be under the soothing hands of his brother.

Fred's crying had stopped, mostly, save for sniffles and random sobs. He refused to look as George went about retrieving the thin, birch cane from its place in their trunk and walking over to him. George sat back down and set the rod at his side. ''Sit up,'' he commanded, nudging Fred softly. He winced as he raised up. The scratchy quilt beneath his bottom was doing him no favours.

''Tell me why you're about to be punished with the cane, Fred.'' George said calmly. Fred still did not look up. Frustrated, George grabbed hold of Fred's chin and forced him to look into his face. ''Tell me.'' he ordered again.

Tears came fresh as George let go and Fred began to speak. ''I'm being punished with the cane...because I tried something dangerous..a-and stupid...and could've hurt myself. And I scared you.''

''Yes you did.'' George confirmed.

''I'm sorry...'' Fred offered, looking away again.

''I know, brother. You're almost done. Stand up and bend over the bed, and spread your legs.'' Fred haltingly complied, and bent down over the tall bed. He clenched his eyes shut, willing this to be over _now._

''Relax, or it will hurt even more.''

The first blow was like a blade against Fred's skin. He nearly screamed for the pain, tears streaming down his scarlet cheeks. He buried his head in the mattress once again, sobbing harder than ever. Soon after, the second hit came, and then the third and fourth. He didn't know how much longer he could take it. Without meaning to, his hand shot back to protect his acheing backside, but was caught almost immediately by his brother.

''You know the consequences for that,'' he said, ''two more. Do you want me to hold your hand back here so you're not tempted again?'' George said. Fred made a strangled ''uh huh'' sound, so George positioned himself so he could hold onto Fred's wrist with one hand while still delivering with the other. The smacks were searing, and Fred was surehe hadn't sobbed this hard since he was small, and he was also _quite_ sure he'd never felt pain like this before. He was down to his last three, and George gave them all in hard, quick, solid smacks, one right after the other, over the same place on his thighs. He silently thanked himself for practicing aim with the thing before actually using it.

He let Fred's wrist fall and it immediately went in under him as he curled onto the bed, crying for humiliation and pain. George placed the rod back in the trunk, then walked around to the side that Fred's face was nearest to. He hoisted the sobbing redhead up, cradling and shushing him, thanking the dear stars above him that it was over.

''Alright, Fred, shh. You need to calm down, you're going to make yourself sick.'' he said, rocking him back and forth and rubbing his back.

''I'm s-s-sorry, George, I d-don't know what I was thinking, I'm sorry I-I m-made you worry like that, and I'm s-s-sorry I made you angry..''

''It's alright, brother, it's okay. You've been punished, and you're forgiven. I know you learned your lesson..that's what this was for. You _have _learned your lesson, haven't you?''

''Y-yes..'' Fred whispered.

''Good. Oh...I never want to do that again...but I did it for your protection. I love you, Fred, more than anything. You're my brother and I love you, and I will always protect you.''

''I know..I love you too...I'm sorry..'' Fred's sobs had lessened greatly, and turned into sniffles agian.

''Shhh, none of that. All's forgiven. Just rest for now.''

Fred quieted, and George continued to hold him there, until he fell asleep. After covering him with the blanket, he ventured into the bathroom. Thinking about what had happened that day, he collapsed on the edge of the bathtub, leaning his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his hair. After a few moments of silence, he began to sob. He slid down onto the floor, and brought his knees up, and cried into them. He stayed that way, sobbing. He felt horrid; what he'd done to his brother was beginning to sink in. He needed it, deserved it, yes...but that didn't make him feel better. What he didn't know, was that in the room outside, his other half lie awake, listening to his cries.

''My mirror, my protection...'' Fred sobbed again, his heart breaking, ''I'm so sorry, George...I love you.''


End file.
